The Path to Immortality
by Cisselah
Summary: Tom Riddle is eight when he decides he is never going to die. And Tom Riddle never fails.


**~*The Path to Immortality*~**

**Written by: Cisselah**

_**(Beater 2)**_

_**written for**__ Cearphilly Catapults_**_ in _**_The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition_

_**Prompts: 1 & 5 **_

**~*-.-*~**

Tom Riddle is eight the first time he looks death in the face and survives.

His roommate isn't so lucky.

The adults on the shore gather around the two boys, one breathing and one very still, and from the back of the crowd Mrs. Cole screams shrilly at the sight of her favorite orphan's body.

What did you do?! What did you do!? She howls as she throws herself at Barney, clutching his lifeless form with bony hands that reek of flowery perfume.

Tom can barely hear her. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breathing quick like a bird and his veins burning with an excitement that is unlike any Tom has ever felt before.

He's alive.

And he's going to stay that way forever.

-w-

You're a devil, Mrs. Cole whispers vehemently to him. And when you die you will burn in hell with all the other devils.

Then I just have to avoid dying, Tom thinks calculatingly.

-w-

This is how the story goes; two little boys go out to the shore to play. They venture far into the sea, so far that soon their feet can no longer touch the bottom. The two boys are drowning, screaming for help as they struggle to breathe. One of the boys clings to the other boy's shoulders, pushes him down as he pushes himself up.

One boy drowns.

One boy survives.

This is how the story goes, and the world would have been better off if both boys drowned.

-w-

_July 31th, 1938_

_I bought this book in Diagon Alley. It's not very pretty or high quality, but it'll work. After all, it's not like I plan to let anyone else read it._

_- excerpt from the journal of T. M. Riddle._

-w-

One of the first things Tom learns about magic is that death is final.

What a joke, he thinks as he read through _the Impossible Magic _a few days before school starts. He has already read the rest of his course books and is certain that he can attempt at least two of the things the book mentions as impossible if he combines a number of first year spells and some basic problem solving.

No, Tom thinks as he closes the book and glances at his closet in consideration. He will solve the problem with living forever. After all, according to the book, Nicholas Flamel already has, so it can't be too difficult. Tom is stubborn, and he will find a way to live forever, even if it includes the most obscure sort of magic possible.

After all, Tom Riddle never fails.

-w-

_January 14th, 1940_

_I have learned of my ancestry. The others think me weak, tainted with impure blood. They could not be more wrong. I am the purest one of them._

_- excerpt from the journal of T. M. Riddle._

-w-

This is how the story goes; a boy searches for a way, a way of becoming immortal. The boy reads and reads and reads, but all books says the same; impossible, can't be done.

So the boy starts to read other books. Darker books. And within the pages of those books he finds a single reference (just one).

Horcruxes, the boy reads.

Horcruxes is the key.

This is how the story goes, this is the beginning of the end.

-w-

_June 13th, 1942_

_I keep searching for the Chamber of Secrets. I think I am close. The beast whispers to me in its sleep. It wants to wake up and finish what it started. I can't wait until it does._

_- excerpt from the journal of T. M. Riddle._

-w-

Master, the beast hisses. What are your orders?

Kill them, Tom hisses back. Kill all the Mudbloods.

-w-

He finds the book on Christmas eve. _Secrets of the Darkest Art, _by Owle Bullock. Inside the book is the most detailed description of Horcrux-making.

He steals it from the Restricted Section and charms it to look like a potion book. He knows he has to be careful, because Dumbledore is keeping a close eye on him ever since Felicia Jensen got petrified a month ago. If the old goat finds a dark book inside Tom's trunk, Tom will be expelled faster than anyone can say _'innocent'. _

Despite that, there's a strange feeling of excitement that haunts Tom's body, much like the one he experienced when he was eight and his roommate drowned.

This is it, Tom thinks. This is how I'll become immortal.

He reads through the books, once, twice, three times.

By the time the sun rises, Tom has memorized every single word.

-w-

_13 June, 1943_

_This is it. It's done. The Mudblood is dead. I have never felt more alive in my entire life. In an hour's time, this will be the most precious object I own._

_- excerpt from the journal of T. M. Riddle._

_-w-_

It feels like he's being torn apart. He screams - oh, he screams. He screams, he screams, he screams and then it's over.

Then it's done.

Years of research and planning and doing and it's finally - finally - done.

Tom Riddle is immortal.

Tom Riddle will rule the world.

-w-

_Hello, are you there?_

_Yes, who is this?_

_Tom Riddle._

_I suspected that much. I assume you wanted to see if it worked._

_Yes. I suppose it did._

_Yes. Congratulations, Lord Voldemort. We are immortal. _

_- excerpt from conversation from the journal of T. M. Riddle, 20th of June, 1943._

-w-

Why do you keep dragging that tatted diary around? Avery asks him in a snide voice.

Tom smiles at him, his lips hiding razor-sharp secrets and darkest intents.

It's a part of me now, he reveals to Avery, knowing the boy will never realize the full turth of that statement. As he suspected, Avery frowns and looks confused.

You're so special sometimes, Dolohov says. His words are snide but his tone is reverent. He knows that Tom does not accept disobedience (he learned that lesson the hard way and still carries the scars).

This time though, Tom lets him get away with it - for now.

After all, Tom is immortal.

They may not know it, but he's the most special one of them.

-w-

_TMR: How do you split your soul?_

_HS: Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature._

_TMR: But how do you do it?_

_HS: By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder._

_- excerpt from a conversation between TMR and HS._

_-w-_

Morfin Gaunt is nothing like Tom. He shouts and screams and calls Tom's mother ugly names (slut, filth, traitor), screams about how she dishonored them, ran away with a muggle (a muggle that returned and left her pregnant and alone). Something inside Tom burns at the mention of her, his witch of a mother that died and left him alone in this hard cruel world.

Would she be proud of him? He wonders. Would she be proud that he found a way to cheat death (far too late for her).

He doesn't know (he will never know).

Because of Morfin and Tom Riddle Sr he will never know.

(_Dishonored us, she did, that little slut_! Morfin shouts)

Tom thinks he is quite happy with killing his father and his grandparents, but only slightly less than he is with framing his Uncle for their deaths.

-w-

_I created another one._

_Any long-term affects?_

_None that I can perceive._

_Good. How many more do you plan to make?_

_Seven._

_Seven sounds good._

_- excerpt from a conversation from the journal of T. M. Riddle, 30th of June, 1943._

-w-

Hepzibah Smith is a necessity. It takes many weeks for Tom to charm his way into her good graces, but it's finally worth it.

The moment he sees them – the cup and the locket - he knows.

These are his.

-w-

_Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them._

_- Albus Dumbledore to Tom Riddle._

_-w-_

He graduates Hogwarts with the highest grades of his generation. Directly afterwards, he leaves England, travels the world as he gathers allies and followers. He whispers all the right things into all the right ears, scratches all the right backs for all the wrong reasons.

Tom Riddle is a ghost in the middle of the night, a strange that steals your soul and poisons your mind.

He enters your house like a wreath, makes you a deal you can't deny (can't back out of, not even after the corpses are starting to fall).

You'll follow him to death.

There is no freedom.

Because Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord.

-w-

_My enemies are growing. Soon they will discover who I am._

_Then you must shed your skin like a snake. Leave Tom Riddle behind. Become who you were almost meant to be; Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard of all time._

_Don't try to manipulate me._

_I'm not._

_I know you are. Remember, I'm you._

_Okay, so maybe I am. But am I wrong?_

_No. We never are._

_- excerpt from a conversation from the journal of T. M. Riddle, 18th of Mars, 1947_

-w-

This is how the story goes; the boy that wished so much for immortality has become a man. He travels long and far and with many, but his sole companion is a small book, years old and years younger. The man and the book plots and plans. Together they gather their army, vanquish their enemies and purges the world of the impure.

The man and the book have been together for a very long time. They are two parts of a four-part whole. The other pieces of that whole is hidden, hidden from their enemies eyes. But not the book. The book was the first piece - the first part of him - and the book has been with the man so long that the man can't imagine to part from it.

The man and the book are partners.

This is how the story goes.

The world burns around them.

-w-

How many?

Five.

Just one more to go.

Yes. Just one more to go.

- excerpt from a conversation from the journal of T. M. Riddle. January 1st, 1975.

-w-

When he looks himself in the mirror these days, it's not Tom's handsome face that stares back but that of a monster.

Voldemort can't decide if he misses his old one.

-w-

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches _

_... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies _

_... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not_

_... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives _

_... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._

- Sybill Trelawney's first prophecy, spoken to Albus Dumbledore in the Hog's Head, 1980.

-w-

Lucius Malfoy seems very surprised when he's entrusted with the Dark Lord's book on a cold winter night.

But why, my lord? he asks the Dark Lord after he's sure he has thanked his master loud enough. Why give it to me?

Because I need you to keep it safe, Lucius, the Dark Lord tells him. If all else fails, I need you to keep it safe.

Of course, my lord. The Death Eater bows deep. I'll protect it with my life.

Good, the Dark Lord says.

_I'll kill you if you don't._

-w-

SS: _The — the prophecy ... the prediction ... Trelawney... He thinks it means Lily Evans!_

_AD: The prophecy did not refer to a woman. It spoke of a boy born at the end of July —_

_SS: You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down — kill them all —_

_- conversation between AD and SS._

_-w-_

Avada Kedavra, he says, his words echoing inside a house that is full of the dead and soon-to-be. A green light rushes from his wand, heads towards the little boy in the crib. It stretches out, almost as if to embrace him, and then... and then... it bounces.

He has a split second to think. A split second to think about the diary - his diary - the one thing that will keep him alive even after the world has crumbled to dust. To visualize it's dark pages and dark imprint. What would his other self say? he wonders the split second before the green light hits him. Would he even know what has happened? Would he -

The green light hits him and everything is pain and tearing and ripping and-...

Lord Voldemort, the most powerful and feared wizard in the entire Wizarding World, flees into the night with a single scream.

-w-

Lying in a box protected by the darkest spells imaginable, the diary waits for its other to return.

He never does

_-w-_

_The End (?) _

-w-

_No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…_

_- excerpt from a conversation from the journal of T. M. Riddle, 17th November, 1992._


End file.
